A hermit in the Himalayas

A HERMIT IN THE HIMALAYAS

not alone for me but for them also; if I discover the benignity back
of Nature, the high mood wings its way silently towards them. When
the exquisite pulsation of the sacred silence overwhelms me with
its sublimity, I telegraph it, as by telepathy, to those faithful souls.
They may not always be aware of what is being done for them,
because the heavy bars of insensitivity are not easily lifted, but in
odd ways and at various times the accumulated despatches arc
ultimately delivered. Sometimes these latter receive no admittance
until a sudden sorrow descends to afflict and to harass: then strength,
wisdom and consolation trickle into the being of the sorrowful and
enable them to endure what might otherwise be unendurable.
Sometimes an unexpected mood of serenity visits the addressees
in the midst of a crowded street, a busy office or a noisy factory.
Then, too, the diurnal activity has not been in vain. But in some
way or other a powerful concentrated thought must eventually
reach its goal.

The outside world will laugh at these foolish notions. Let it
laugh. We who have built up a sincere affectionate spiritual link,
which defies space and survives trials, can afford its laughter. For it
is a link which depends neither upon the appearances of social
status nor the appurtenances of worldly property, and is therefore
fit to become immortal.

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